At Christmas, I No More Desire A

Yet Writers Say, As In The Sweetest Bud The Eating Canter Dwells, So Eating Love Inhabits In The Finest Wits Of All.

And Oft, My Jealousy Shapes Faults That Are Not.

The Time Of Life Is Short; To Spend That Shortness Basely Were Too Long.

I Thank God I Am As Honest As Any Man Living That Is An Old Man And No Honester Than I.

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!